


Les Crocodiles

by 11dishwashers



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mental Illness, Teachers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11dishwashers/pseuds/11dishwashers
Summary: Why Taeil thinks Donghyuck hates him, and why Donghyuck actually hates him.





	Les Crocodiles

Taeil had first attempted to circumvent all meetings, concerns, wistful approaches sometimes met with wistful ignorance, staunchness, “coffee greetings”, Dongyoung-pedaled meantics that would loop in endless, droning ovals around anything which held real importance, public transport rides(or what he inwardly would correct as ‘commutes’ if in the right, six hour sleep fuelled “headspace”), perfunctory faculty festive dos, remembrances and break room fraternity that entailed what he deemed unnecessary encounters with Donghyuck, by relation, blood or presence. This had nudged on a gentle yet passive aggressive assertion from Donghyuck that he had no idea why Taeil was avoiding him, as he had put it, apparently having left his sparefulness by the goldfish bowl he was known to possess that morning. In his eyes- or the eyes of the law which had only known divine justice- it was not with any absentee demand that he shuffled along with everyone else through all the fluffy activities the board might as well have made compulsory for the teaching staff. He would not pink over so poetically that it could be swatched with cotton, nor would he seek Taeil’s hobbly stance(another instance of Donghyuck phrasing things in an unjust manner) from the crowd in which the franker, more attractive figures stood out long before he did.

Each cross hatched itself back to a dread when through the egregious slip of glass implanted upon the staff room door, a silhouette slouched into view which was harshed out, rubbed the wrong way perhaps, all the way through a childhood stuttering about an existential crisis but never quite falling in, and he would there be, dressed business casual wherever needless, managing a morphine slipped through his red pen and putting down his students one red tick at a time: this was Taeil at his most bare, the Taeil who had not seen life beyond a shelf for he had never seen a life nor a grin. Hope was not worked into him and whenever he slipped he was not propped up to a manageable position once more, but through that glass- though Donghyuck would never voice this- he appeared quite beaten down.   
There was almost some cloaked sorrow moving to and fro with the ballpoint. His constant adjusting of the unnatural manner with which his glasses cut out some due blood at the temples pushed Donghyuck’s bandages all along the red swell, the cut now threaded coarsely.

They would not understand that it had never been a question of the misplaced antics or their subsequent shunning. Taeil to him was not an authoritous pig, a blank washboard taking on the mannerisms it had allegedly observed from the man who had never understood not to eat past full, nor what enough entailed.

Taeil was doom, depressive and upholstered from prim grey. He had not the capacity for bothersome longing, and though he was attractive it made itself scarce when facing off a shamble or a turmoil-esque storm, a five hour sleep for a fifty hour day; beneath a certain gaze he would cease all function.

Donghyuck rounded the school once more. Like a fly in a trap he fell towards the hatred eternally.

**Author's Note:**

> getting back into the swing of things post nanowrimo, please expect longer work from me with actual romance soon


End file.
